


The Grand Scene

by afreezingnote



Series: A Union of Legends [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to Tailored Love detailing "the grand scene from six months ago" that made it obvious to Benny that Dean and Cas would get together. Canon divergent during 9.22, Stairway to Heaven.  </p><p>“He is my brother, and it was my naivety that led to the fall,” Cas said.<br/>“That doesn’t mean you have to fix it alone,” Sam said.<br/>Castiel sagged.  “This isn’t helping us.  Let’s take a step back and think.”<br/>Sam nodded and sat down across from him.<br/>“He said he wanted me to be his villain.  He’s obsessed with stories.  What I need to do, what we need to do, is write a better one.”<br/>“Okay.  How do we do that?” Sam asked.<br/>“We be ourselves,” Cas said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the tags are in the notes at the bottom, so if any of them concern you, check there first for explanation!

It took a month for events to build to the final confrontation.  Things started heating up, naturally, after Castiel’s army disbanded.  The one positive from Metatron’s interference was gaining Tessa’s allegiance.  It had taken considerable effort to convince her that she had been deceived in order to discuss the possibility of her contributing in a less fatal way than transforming herself into a suicide bomb, and she had proven invaluable.  After Dean attacked Gadreel, it became apparent even to Dean that the effects of wielding the first blade with the mark of Cain needed to be mitigated.  Putting Dean in a cage was useless.  It was Sam’s idea that brought Tessa into an active role.  Dean needed to be somewhere he could vent the rage the mark of Cain and first blade stirred in him, a place where the blade would not be easily accessible: Purgatory.  Tessa, as a reaper, could move between the realms, and, after ferrying Dean to the land of monsters initially, she returned periodically to check on him.  Between trips, she and Sam researched ways to help the souls trapped in the vale.  Her last status report found Dean much improved.  She said he had found Benny and was fighting cooperatively with him.  Dean had confided in her that in lulls between skirmishes, he was trying to convince Benny to come back to earth with him on the return journey.

The big boss fight, as Sam would say, came to them more quickly than they anticipated, and Castiel felt as if they were scrambling.  If the flashes of worry he caught from Sam were any indication, Cas thought he felt the same.  Metatron’s call for the presence of Team Free Will--how his sarcastic tone irked Castiel--at a designated location on a specific date and time led them to send Tessa to retrieve Dean early.  There were only hours now before the angels would gather, and there had been no contact from Tessa or Dean.  

Castiel sat at the hotel room table, trying to summon an air of calm he did not feel.  Sam paced.  They didn’t have a plan.

…

With thirty minutes left, Sam and Cas found themselves in an argument.  Castiel insisted that Sam could not engage Metatron directly.  Metatron’s dubiously boostered power offered too great a risk to a human.  Sam protested, pointing out the unreliability of Castiel’s dwindling grace.

“Yes, I am near human,” Cas said.  “But not quite.  That’s enough.”

“We’ve taken bigger fish before,” Sam said.

“I know.  I know, but this is my problem--”

“No, Cas, this is our problem!” Sam interrupted.

“He is my brother, and it was my naivety that led to the fall,” Cas said.

“That doesn’t mean you have to fix it alone,” Sam said.

Castiel sagged.  “This isn’t helping us.  Let’s take a step back and think.”

Sam nodded and sat down across from him.

“He said he wanted me to be his villain.  He’s obsessed with stories.  What I need to do, what we need to do, is write a better one.”

“Okay.  How do we do that?” Sam asked.

“We be ourselves,” Cas said.

…

They agreed on a strategy, as much of a strategy as they ever had.  Metatron would want to confront Castiel directly and treat the Winchesters as accessories, exhibits in Castiel’s disgrace.  If Cas couldn’t end it himself, he and Sam would simply fight until they were no longer able.  With fifteen minutes left, Sam drove them to the chosen battlefield.  

…

Metatron frowned at Sam and Castiel standing alone as the fallen angels formed a loose circle around them.  “Where’s the other Hardy boy?” Metatron asked.

“He’s on his way,” Sam said.

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Metatron asked.  If he was hoping for laughs, none of the angels gathered made a sound.

“I suspect you know exactly the trouble we’ve been having,” Castiel said.

“You’re right, I do!  Your problem is you care too much, Castiel.  Loving these humans will be your downfall.  Again.”

“I do love humanity.  I don’t understand how that’s a flaw,” Castiel said.  “It is what our Father commanded of us.  Lucifer fell because he would not bow before them, so what makes you think it’s a good idea to follow in his footsteps?”

“We should not have to bow to anyone.”

“You sound just like the archangels you claim to despise.”

“But you, Castiel.  You don’t have a problem prostrating yourself before them.  There’s one human you’d particularly love to fall on your knees for, isn’t there?”

Castiel blushed but stood his ground.  “You don’t need to be crude.”

“Why don’t you tell them about the things you imagine, the things you really want more than seeing your family return home.”

“My feelings for Dean Winchester are no one’s business but my own.”

Metatron threw back his head and laughed.  Castiel clenched his fist around his blade.  Metatron fixed his eyes on something over Castiel’s shoulder, and his customary smug grin held firm on his face.  “He’s right behind you, Castiel.”

Castiel closed his eyes and felt his shoulders sag.  He pulse thundered in his chest though he should be able to control it.  

“Do you think he wants you?” Metatron asked.

“No,” Cas whispered.

Metatron contorted his face into a feigned expression of pity.  “Then what are you fighting for?”

Castiel let his blade fall into his palm and said, “I have nothing left to lose.”  

Castiel lunged but Metatron dodged him easily, the advantage of wings already proving overwhelming.  Castiel’s only hope would be in keeping him talking and praying that he’d slip up enough to land a killing blow.  He drew back into a defensive stance to wait, and Metatron came at him immediately, the tip of his blade slashing out in an arch. The blade tore a jagged line down the trench coat, giving Castiel the second he needed to turn, using the momentum to thrust his blade up.  A flash of blue rewarded his effort but he had only hit Metatron’s arm.  The wound disappeared as soon as it had formed.  Castiel shrugged the coat off and circled, making Metatron change his footing to face him.  His open collar fluttered in the breeze, the white of it a stark contrast to the grey of the oncoming storm.  He could see now that Metatron had been truthful about Dean’s arrival and had used it to his theatrical advantage, knowing the depth of Castiel’s feelings estranged him from his siblings and surmising that Castiel would be unnerved by Dean hearing his confession.  Benny and Tessa flanked the Winchesters, and Castiel was glad Sam’s prospects had improved should he fail.

“Admit it, Castiel,” Metatron taunted.  “You’re nothing but a killer just like your boyfriend.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean over Metatron’s shoulder. “Don’t speak of him,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in warning.

“You defend him even now?” Metatron asked, intoning his voice with incredulity boarding horror.  “After he has made himself practically a monster with that mark on his arm?”

Castiel could hardly believe he’d allowed himself to be duped by this being.  His falsehoods were so glaring now, but, what was the phrase?  Hindsight is 20/20.

“He has made mistakes, but he deserves to be saved.  He has always deserved to be saved.  I knew that even when I did not know myself.”

“Do you know yourself, Cas?” Metatron asked.

That sarcastic tone made Cas’s hand itch around his blade, but, despite his irritation, he knew he didn’t truly wish to end his brother’s life.  He’d told Bartholomew that angels fighting angels had to end, and it pained him not to have lived up to his attempt to be the first to lay down his blade.  Here it seemed words held the sharper sting, for now, and he had to choose his carefully.  “Do you, scribe? Or should I call you X?  Do your followers know your arrogance—that you think of yourself as the second coming?”

“They want a new god, and they are prepared to follow me.”

“That story has already been told,” Cas said, not able to keep his tone calm.  He had written that tale himself, betrayal his pen and the black blood of Leviathan his ink.  “It didn’t turn out well.”

“That’s because you have always been ineffective Castiel.”

“And how will you do better?  Where are you getting your power?  You are not an archangel and you are not a god, despite your posturing.  That mojo has to come from somewhere. Are you draining Heaven?”

“Who cares about a few human souls in the grand scheme?  We get to have order and a home. Sacrifices must be made.”

In the crowd, angels shifted uncomfortably.  Siphoning Heaven for fuel was an immorality not even Raphael had pondered when the tides of the war had turned in Castiel’s favor.  He knew that Metatron’s admission had scored him a point.  “So you are.  You are the abomination.”

“Let them be the judge of that.  Who is worse--me, who will take them home, or you, who gave up everything, again, for one man?”

Castiel tilted his head and squinted, trying to decipher why Metatron kept returning to this point.  Surely the angels already understood.  Those that would look down on Castiel for his emotions already had plenty of evidence.  “Do you think, if you say it enough, that I will feel shame, that I will regret my choice?”

“You should.”

“I don’t.  And  I won’t.”

“Then let’s try another approach,” Metatron said.  “I wonder how fast you would surrender if I captured your precious Dean?”

“Don’t.”

Metatron gestured to two angels.  “Seize him.”

A cluster of angels huddled together, cutting off any path of escape, and allowing them to pull Dean away from his brother, Benny, and Tessa.  

“Bring him to me,” Metatron instructed.

The angels dragged Dean over to him and Metatron rooted him to the spot with a thought.  He brought the tip of his blade to settle against Dean’s throat.  “What do you say now, Castiel?”

“I will never allow you to hurt Dean.”

Castiel was tense, searching for an opening.  He could feel his siblings eyes on him and was aware, peripherally, that his focus and anger had shifted the atmosphere of the confrontation.

“That’s true, isn’t it?  You’d kill every one of your kind to protect him, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Cas hissed.

“Why?”

“I love him.”

The angels’ reactions to this profession were more pronounced.  Handfuls of them turned to those nearest them and whispered.  Of course, the distinction would be enough to shock many of them.  After the first war and the demise of the Nephilim, except for the one who had passed her days waitressing at Eugenie’s, love between humans and angels had become forbidden, as taboo as falling.  At once, Castiel felt relief at having been able to say the words and regret that they had likely lost any sympathy his siblings might have granted him and the Winchesters.

“There it is.  You’re in love with a human.  You truly are the abomination, Castiel.”

Castiel couldn’t help but think of their encounter with the Nephilim and Metatron’s vehemence as they tried to take her heart.  He suspected something about Metatron’s plot--the ingredients for the spell that caused the fall and his choice to target Gadreel specifically as a recruit, but Cas wasn’t about to lay those cards on the table yet.  Perhaps one day he would ask Gadreel about it and offer his apologies if he was correct.  “That’s what this has been about?  You’ve gone in circles just to have me say it?”

“They deserve to know the truth. He deserves to know the truth before he dies, doesn’t he?”  Metatron pressed the blade more firmly against the hollow of Dean’s throat.  

Castiel stayed silent, choosing to give his attention to Dean instead.  When he met Dean’s eyes, Dean returned his gaze without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Cas said.

The corner of Dean’s mouth pulled up and he winked.  Before Castiel could incline his head in confusion, a glint of beige on bones and teeth swirled from Dean’s side as he plunged the first blade into Metatron’s ribs.  This time, the blaze of blue engulfed the battlefield as Metatron’s grace burned away.  The rush of killing so powerful a being rattled Dean to his core.  It should have consumed him and led to a spree of violence more unstoppably bloodthirsty than his confrontation with Gadreel, but it didn’t.  The blade slipped from Dean’s shaking hands, thudding dully on the ground.  Dean took a step forward, his eyes clear and focused.  

“Cas,” he said, sounding like a little boy.

“Dean?” Cas replied.

Dean stopped in front of him, leaving the sliver of space he would usually only allow without an audience between them, and his knees buckled.  Cas caught him but followed the path of his descent, bracing Dean with a hand on his left shoulder and cradling his skull.

“Did you mean it?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse and cracking.

“What part?” Cas asked, looking down.

“You love me.”

Cas pursed his lips, resigned, but didn’t look up.  “Yes,” he said.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean said.

Cas took a breath that did little to steady him and raised his head.

“Me too,” Dean said.

“What?” Cas searched Dean’s face for any nuance that might explain his words because he surely didn’t mean what Castiel thought.

“I love you too, jackass.”

“Dean, are you serious?”

“Metatron was right about one thing,” Dean said.  “You deserve to know.”

Dean slid his fingers up Castiel’s neck.  The last three digits of his hand came to rest behind Castiel’s ear, leaving his thumb to stroke along Cas’s cheekbone.  As his hand fell, Dean’s thumb brushed Castiel’s lips, and Dean’s eyes fluttered in vain as he tried to hang onto awareness.  His head lolled back, making Cas tighten his grip to keep him upright.  Cas shifted his arms to pick Dean up, a position he was sure the man would protest were he conscious.  As he stood, Castiel found the eyes of his siblings still upon them.  When turned away from them to walk toward Sam, Benny, and Tessa one angel called out to him.

“What will we do now, Castiel?”

“Whatever you want,” Cas said.

“How will we get back to Heaven?” another asked.

“Gadreel knows the way,” Cas answered.

“What will you do?” Hannah asked.

“Heaven is no longer my home,” Cas said. “You must understand this.  The Winchesters are my family, and my place is with them.  If you want my help, I will give it, but I will not lead you.  We do not need leaders.  Choice is too precious a gift to squander following orders.  I can’t make you comprehend the power of free will.  You have to learn it for yourselves.  I hope you can, finally, come to appreciate it.  

Cas lowered Dean’s legs as Sam and Benny ducked under Dean’s shoulders to take his weight.  Cas turned back to face his siblings and stepped forward to retrieve the first blade.  It felt ancient and exhausted in his palm.

“What I will do is simple.  I will live.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, Tessa and Gadreel are still alive. Dean is not a demon. The minor character death is Metatron. Hopefully everyone is cool with that. Also, the idea Cas thinks about during the battle refers to my headcanon that the Nephilim was Gadreel's daughter. I don't know if that implication came through or not.


End file.
